


I like you (I like you)

by musiclily88



Category: Calvin Harris (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: I know his name isn't calvin but IDC, M/M, but not the goofiest thing i've written somehow, happy almost birthday!!!!, self-indulgent sorta fic, this is goofy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 22:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: "Calvin Harris and Louis Tomlinson’s Secret Football Group "That's it, that's the headline





	I like you (I like you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [runaway_train](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runaway_train/gifts).

> For runaway_train.  
Happy trails, darlin <3
> 
> And yes, I know his name isn't actually Calvin. I do not care whatsoever.

“Look alive, sunshine!” Louis yells, slapping Calvin in the face with the palm of his right hand.

Calvin immediately starfishes from his spot on the bed, leg kicking out from underneath the coverlet as his knuckles connect with Louis’ chin.

“Ow, fuck, that hurt!” Louis crows, tipping backwards.

“You hit me first,” Calvin points out as he rolls over, away from Louis, so that he’s facing the wall.

“Get up.” Louis prods at Calvin’s shoulder, trying not to notice that he’s shirtless.

“Shan’t.”

“Why are you being such a baby? You’re ages older than me.”

“First, that’s terribly rude and also untrue. Second, if I’m so old, I deserve lots and lots of rest,” Calvin mumbles. “And thirdly. Uh. There is no third.”

“I’m giving you five minutes and then I’m bringing in a bucket of water.”

“I don’t own a bucket.” He pauses. “How the hell did you get into my house?”

Louis moves towards the wardrobe, yanking out Calvin’s football bag. Rifling through his shirts, he says, “The front door was open.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Calvin protests, levering himself up on one arm.

“I found a key under the mat.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I broke a window?” Louis finally says, tossing a green shirt and black trackie bottoms in Calvin’s general direction.

“You’re a bloody menace.” Calvin sighs, toppling back onto his pillow.

“Written on my birth certificate and passport, both, mate. You say it like that’s news.” He smirks at Calvin before rubbing one hand over the scruff on his neck. “Get dressed, we’ve a one-a-side to get to.”

Calvin rolls his eyes but throws off the duvet, moving past Louis to head to the toilet. He shuts the door a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Uh,” he hears through the door as he’s putting toothpaste onto his brush.

“What?” he calls out.

Louis opens the door, mobile in his right hand. “Speaking of news,” he begins, then trails off, handing over his phone without another word.

_ Calvin Harris and Louis Tomlinson’s Secret Football Group _

Calvin starts laughing so hard that he drops the phone.

:

“It’s not that funny,” Louis argues, sitting on one of the fucking-weird spinny chairs at Calvin’s kitchen island. He crosses his arms and looks up expectantly.

Calvin sighs, moving to make them both breakfast smoothies. “It’s kinda funny. Plus, you take the piss out of everything, what the fuck does it matter?”

“I—” Louis sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sick of my private life being raked over the front page of _ The Sun, _ that’s all.”

Calvin is silent as he takes the top off his blender, considering this. “’Kay. But like. Is this one so bad, though?”

“Bro, it was a secret for a reason!”

He goes silent again, dropping in some bananas, protein powder, frozen fruit, and Greek yogurt. Neither of them speaks as he blends it all together, and neither of them speaks as he pours their smoothies into glasses. He hands one over wordlessly.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Okay.”

“I just mean, it was nice to have something just for me. Or whatever.”

“That’s all you meant?”

“That’s all I meant.”

++

Louis grinned hard, breaking right as he dribbled the football across the grass. He swiped at his fringe once, sweaty and flopping over from the length of their game, but he soldiered on, relentless.

“Catch up if you can, old man!” he yelled over his shoulder, nearly tripping over his feet as he did so.

“Bloody menace, you are! Keep in mind I’m still winning!” Calvin called from behind him, gaining yards on him, pumping his legs hard.

And then suddenly they were both on the ground, a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing and possibly broken bones. When Louis opened his eyes, he realized that Calvin was hovering over him, looking concerned, arms bracketing his ribcage.

“I thought tackle football was an American thing, bro.”

Calvin gave him a small smile, face relaxing. “You all right?”

“’m always all right.” Louis blinked, eyebrows pinching in slightly. He took a deep breath before leaning forward slightly, hesitantly. He tilted his chin up, just so. “More than all right, now. With you.”

Calvin smiled wider, ducking in to kiss Louis hard. It was a searing kiss right out of the gate, immediately open-mouthed and biting. Louis snaked one arm around Calvin’s waist and the other around his neck, pulling him in closer. He ground their hips together, arching up off the grass just as Calvin pressed down.

:

“Well, what—”

“I mean, ya do talk some shit in interviews,” Louis points out, setting his glass down. He flicks his fringe out of his eyes, frowning.

Calvin nods slowly. “I do, do I.”

“An’ your Scottish accent is stupid!” he adds, crossing his arms.

“Your Donnie accent is stupid, babe.”

“Don’ call me babe.”

“An’ don’ call me stupid.”

Louis heaves a sigh. “I wasn’t—’m not calling _ you _ stupid.”

“No?”

“No.”

+++

They wrestled around, Louis pressing blazing kisses to Calvin’s cheeks and forehead and chin.

“And this is just for us,” Louis said, voice sounding exultant and small at the same time.

“We’re here, yeah. It’s you and me. Are you—”

“It’s you and me.” Louis grinned again, the same way he kissed, white-hot and hard.

:

“Why do even care what people think?” Calvin asks, enunciating carefully, such that Louis knows this is serious.

“You don’t get it!”

“Nope.”

“They’re gonna—” Louis begins, heaving a sigh.

“They’ll what, Lou? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They’ll ruin me.”

+++

It was just them, then, rucking together against the grass and getting their kits off together, Calvin yanking Louis up to carry him around like he was small, like he was beautifully small and nothing and everything altogether.

:

“They’ll ruin me.”

Calvin grinds his teeth momentarily before smacking one hand against the countertop. “Let them speculate!”

Louis sighs again. “Excuse me, and also what the fuck.”

“Let them speculate.”

Louis smacks the countertop too. “You don’t get it!”

“So explain it to me!”

“I’m just, you’re just—not you, specific, general, what-the-fuck-ever— just want to feel good for once, it’s like, nothing will ever measure—I don’t know.”

Calvin nods. “Looking to feel whole again.”

Louis sighs, shaking his head. “Looking to feel something.”

Calvin sets down his glass, eyes going wide. Again, he starts to laugh.

++

“We can’t tell anyone.”

“Right, yeah, okay.”

:

Calvin bit his bottom lip. “Okay.”

“I—”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, but I—”

“Please don’t do this.”

+++

They made a lazy brunch, and they both knew the other wasn’t telling the entire truth.

“I’m not gay,” Louis said, which was at least an honest moment, if a disingenuous one.

“Yeah,” Calvin said, turning on the stove. “I gathered.”

And on it went, on and on, because sometimes, people were fools in ways they hadn’t expected ever before.

+++

“It’s not funny!” Louis yells, launching himself upright out of his seat from across the island.

“Fuck, fine, it’s not funny,” Calvin says, backing away, until he remembers he’s actually taller than Louis by a good margin. He steps forward, seeing Louis’ eyes go slightly wide. “It’s not funny.”

“Fuck you,” Louis spits. “Fuck you.”

“Try as hard as you like, babe.” Calvin clucks his tongue, as if in warning, before moving into a different room, knowing Louis will follow.

:

Louis follows, but in his own time.

He finds Calvin on the sofa, staring at the telly without really seeing or listening. Louis sighs heavily, yanking the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands before he sits down, cuddling into Calvin’s side.

“That wasn’t about you.”

“Gathered.”

“But like.”

Calvin waits a beat. “But like?”

“It—it was about us, I guess, and I’m sick of that.”

“Right.”

Louis raises a brow. “You’re being too soft right now.”

_ “Excuse me?” _

“You heard me.”

Calvin sighs, cuddling into Louis, curling one hand over his shoulder.

“Oh, stealing a hug?”

“Stop that.” Calvin sets his other hand on Louis’ hip.

“Stop what.”

“Stop fronting.”

“I’m not ever.”

Calvin moves his hand from Louis’ shoulder to his cheek, rasping one thumb against his stubble. “Right.”

Louis moves one hand up, thumbing his way along Calvin’s brow. “Pretty, aren’t you?”

Calvin licks his lips. “Fuck off.”

Louis grins, wicked and sharp. “Shan’t.”

“Figured as much, to be honest,” Calvin says, kissing Louis’ temple. “So.”

“So?”

“Kickabout in the back, you think?”

“Hell yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy early birthday to runaway_train!  
Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
